


Maybe never

by kiarcheo



Series: How they got together - Maybe series [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Pezberry, Unrequited Love, brittberry, unrequired Pezberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiarcheo/pseuds/kiarcheo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could get any boy she wanted, but no, she had to fall for Rachel freaking Berry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe never

Santana sat on the piano bench playing the melody, her fingers ghosting over the keys.

Yes, Santana Lopez knew her musicals. And yes, she knew how to play the song. Hell, she had seen the YouTube tutorial so many times she could play it in her _sleep_.

She abruptly stopped and stood up.

She blocked the door with a chair so that it would warn her if someone was trying to come in. She just felt the need to do it, there was no fucking way she would let someone witness her pathetic display of weakness.  
More secure with the door barred, she resumed playing.

  
_Hands touch,_

 

A soft hand covering her own, as they were in the final pose of their “My life Would Suck Without You” performance that followed their Sectionals win.

 

_..eyes meet._

 

She can’t forget her grinning enthusiasm when they finished the performance at Regionals. They looked at each other, smiling widely. Her eyes were shining, sparkling more than the gold on her dress.

  
_Sudden silence,_

 

She didn’t talk. All Santana could hear was her silence, defeating the thunderous applause of the audience. 

 

 _…sudden heat_.

 

Then she had hugged her and the contact of their bodies ignited a flame through Santana’s limbs. She hoped that the heat radiating from Rachel’s body had the same source and wasn’t just from the warm lights of the stage.

  
_Hearts leap in a giddy whirl…_

 

She didn’t know when she had lowered her head to Rachel’s level, but when the shorter girl whispered in her ear, ”we did it” her heart stopped. Feeling the hot breath on her skin, it started to beat again in a wild rhythm.

  
_He could be that boy…_

 

She had hinted so many times at Rachel’s male nature that this verse would be ironic if it weren’t so damn tragic for her: how could Rachel even _consider_ someone who had treated her like that?

  
_But I'm not that girl._

 

It was easier when she thought Rachel was straight. She knew that she had no chance, no matter what. Rachel liked boys and she was a girl. But now Rachel was dating a girl. A girl who wasn’t Santana. A girl who would never be Santana. And that really fucking hurt.  
  
_Don't dream too far…_

 

She would dream of kisses, caresses, loving words—of tangled limbs and promises of eternal love. And then she would wake up in her harsh reality, where the best she could hope for was becoming Rachel’s friend.

  
_Don't lose sight of who you are…_

 

She is the bitch cheerleader—the one who joined Glee club to destroy it, the one who sleeps around. She took Finn’s virginity. She sexted with Puck (knowing he was babysitting with Quinn) just to prove he was still her man, even though she had thrown him away because of his credit score.

She had slapped her former best friend for the head cheerleader’s place and hit the spot she knew would hurt Quinn the most: Beth.

She repeated her faults to herself every day, as a constant reminder why she could never have Rachel, why she would never deserve her.

  
_Don't remember that rush of joy…_

 

”I believe you.” She had never heard three words sweeter than these.

She didn’t care that the others were mad at her, or that her admission could end up at Coach’s ears, or that they didn’t have songs for the performance in just an hour.

She only cared that Rachel believed her. She had no reason to, but she believed her.

She kept her arms crossed over her chest to stop herself from taking the little diva in her arms and kissing her senseless. They were both leaning against the wall and it would have taken so little to just grab her.

Rachel smiled at her and she couldn’t help it; she smiled back. She couldn’t say for sure where her heart was anymore: in her stomach? Maybe in her throat? She only knew that it was fluttering, and her whole body was pulsing.

  
_He could be that boy…_

 

Why couldn’t she be a boy? Boys were so much easier—a touch here, some flirting there, put out when they wanted and they were hooked.

She could get any boy she wanted, but no, she had to fall for Rachel freaking Berry.

Sure, if Rachel were a boy, she would be different from the others (probably just to make things harder for her) but Santana was sure she would be able to seduce him/her, too. Hell, she would be willing to go steady and do all the couple-y, sappy things with Rachel—boy or girl didn’t matter.  

  
_I'm not that girl…_  
  
No, she wasn’t that girl—the lucky one that was probably holding her hand in the hallway right this moment, headed towards the choir room. Or maybe they were still lost in their kisses, forgetting the world around them. Or worse, maybe she had finally convinced Rachel and they were having a quickie in one of the closets or the car. 

 _Ev'ry so often we long to steal,  
To the land of what-might-have-been… _  

What if Santana had stood up for Rachel when they were still kids? Would they have been best friends all this time?

What if she hadn’t slushied or insulted her that day? Every evening she wondered what would have changed if she hadn’t done it, if she had maybe helped her instead. Would it have been the day that changed everything?

What if she hadn’t joined the Cheerios, and had joined Glee club from the beginning? What if she hadn’t slept with Finn?

What if she had asked her to do the duet with her, instead of Mercedes? And what if they had won? Would Rachel have accepted going to dinner at Breadsticks with her? Would she have accepted it as a date?

What if…

  
_But that doesn't soften the ache we feel,_  
_When reality sets back in…_

Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe a single action would have changed everything.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Rachel didn’t love her—would never love her, even if she wasn’t so disgustingly in love with her girlfriend.

  
_Blithe smile,_

Her girlfriend had a disarming smile. It could be contagious, or sweet, or irresistible, or… She had endured a drowsing lecture on her many smiles. Santana knew that if it had been anyone other than Rachel, she would have punched them in the mouth to stop the words. She also knew that she could deliver an equally long speech about Rachel’s different smiles, not that she would ever admit it.

She would’ve preferred cutting off her own ears over listening to Rachel’s endless praises of her girlfriend, but she had to admit that with one smile, the girl could lighten up even Rachel’s worst mood. 

 

_…lithe limb,_

 

 You would have to be blind to ignore her legs. They were constantly on display, thanks to her Cheerio uniform.

Santana would always prefer Rachel’s, but she couldn’t deny that she had caught herself looking at those legs, too; long and shaped by years of dance—who wouldn’t?

  
_She who's winsome,_

 

Everyone loved her. You wouldn’t find anyone who hated her, or even disliked her. _Everyone_ loved her—especially Rachel.

 

_…she wins her._

 

Santana changed the pronoun. Because really, she couldn’t have cared less if it had been some boy’s heart that was won. But no, it had been Rachel’s, instead.

  
_Gold hair with a gentle curl…_

 

She had even faced Coach Sylvester to let her wear her hair loose sometimes, because Rachel loved when her blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, free from the mandatory ponytail.

  
_That's the girl she chose._

 

Finn was still trying to get back together, Puck was waiting at the window (hoping for some hot Jew action), and she had started to receive appreciative looks from other boys, too—but she chose the blonde cheerleader. Not Santana.

  
_And Heaven knows,  
I'm not that girl._

 

God, she was reminded of it every fucking day of her fucking life.  
  
_Don't wish, don't start,  
Wishing only wounds the heart._

 

She had always thought that all the talk about heartbreak was just that—talk. They were tales to sell shitty romance novels to brainless girls and lonely old women.

Then she had seen them together kissing.

It hurt. It hurt more than when she broke three fingers punching some worthless jock, more than when she dislocated a shoulder and put it back in place by herself so that coach wouldn’t have any excuse to throw her off of the Cheerios.

Her whole body was hurting, she desperately wanted to cry, and the heart she would never admit to having was broken.

She still hadn’t managed to put it back together: every time she saw them together, every time she woke up from a fantasy of her and Rachel together, every time she just wished things were different; the pieces fell apart again.

  
_I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl…_

 

But she would do it in the twinkling of an eye, if only Rachel asked her.

  
_There's a girl I know…_

 

Why did it have to be her own best friend? Why Brittany? Why couldn’t it be someone else? She loved Brittany, she could never hate her, could never hurt her.

  
_She loves her so…_

 

And it hurt so damn much.

  
_I'm not that girl..._

 

What she would pay to be that girl.

Santana put her head down on the keys, blinking back tears, when she heard someone trying to open the door and meeting with the resistance of the chair. 

She stood up, trying not to look too eager to see who was entering the room.

Her posture dropped in defeat for a second when she saw that it was Kurt and not Rachel. She kept coming to the room earlier (hoping to catch some moments alone with the diva), even though she knew that since Rachel got together with Brittany, she wasn’t the first one to arrive anymore.

“What’s going on?”

Immediately, she straightened her back, scowl on her face, glaring at the boy.

“Why there was a chair blocking the door?” He continued, unperturbed. 

“Maybe because I wanted to be alone.” She sneered, advancing menacingly towards him.

“Or maybe you have something to hide.”

“What did you hear?” She was now toe to toe with him.

“Nothing,” Kurt was starting to feel uncomfortable, having Santana looking down at him with fury in her eyes. “But I know how you feel.” He said, alluding to his crush on Finn.

Santana grabbed his bow tie. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat in his face. “You don’t know anything!”

“What are you doing?” Rachel’s unsure voice reached Santana’s ears.

She let Kurt go and turned towards the girl with a tight smile. “I was admiring his bow tie.”

Now emboldened, Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay, I was making fun of it.” Santana admitted, rolling her eyes and faking annoyance.

She was fighting to maintain her scowl and not return the smile that Rachel was sending her, but Brittany’s arrival resolved the issue for her. As her best friend hugged her girlfriend from behind, all the warm feelings disappeared, leaving only the jealousy.

 “Where do you want to sit today?” Rachel asked Brittany.

 “Back row?” the blonde looked at her hopefully and Rachel couldn’t help smiling at her.

 Kurt rolled his eyes at how whipped the diva was: it was universal knowledge that you didn’t sit in the back row if you had any intention of paying attention. Well, to the practice, anyway. He was sure that they would pay a lot of attention to one another.

 “S, sit with us?” Brittany called.

 Santana shook her head but forced a smile and the blonde beamed at her. Smiles had never been Santana’s thing (and lately even less than ever), but she knew the grimace was meant to be a smile.

Brittany knew that everyone thought Santana was jealous, but she had assured Brittany that what she felt for her was only friendship and Brittany believed her. Santana had been nicer to Rachel, too, so she didn’t see why she should act differently towards her.

 “Maybe next time.”

 Santana saw Brittany nodding happily before resuming her petting of Rachel’s hair, while the brunette skipped her fingers along the dancer’s legs.

She sighed. How could she not love Brittany? How could she hate her? She was her best friend. She was more than a best friend, more than a sister, and she was happy.

Santana couldn’t blame her for it. She couldn’t blame her for loving Rachel; after all, she did, too.

And she knew that Brittany didn’t mean to flaunt it in her face. They were just affectionate people, everybody knew that. And it wasn’t like they were aware of Santana’s feelings.

Nobody knew, and nobody would ever know. It would destroy Brittany (and probably Rachel, too). They were similar in that way; they would feel guilty and think it was their fault that Santana was hurting so much…

There was no way in hell that Santana would let it happen. 

She slid down in her chair, defeated.

 “Maybe never,” she murmured to herself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song is ‘I’m Not That Girl’ from Wicked.


End file.
